Precious Gifts
by SilverRayan
Summary: come in all forms, but no matter the form, every one of the should be treasured. Rated M for a reason


For Katsuko. I apologize if the characters seem ooc, but I like to think that there is more to them than their stereotypes. This was supposed to be a drabble. Clearly I am incapable of writing anything under 1000 words.

Sunstreaker sat in his quarters, brooding. Normally, he would be at the party that Sideswipe and Jazz had put together to celebrate their latest victory over the Decepticons. The battle had been rough, and the victory was hard earned. Several mechs were still in the medbay, but thankfully none of the injuries were serious. Ironhide had taken a blast from Megatron's fusion cannon, and would not be joining the festivities, but everyone else would be patched up before the party really got going. Sunstreaker, however, had no intention of joining them. There were a couple of reasons for this.

One: his knee joint was busted. He hadn't gone to the repair bay, despite the agony racing through his leg struts. There were too many who were more seriously injured; his knee could wait until tomorrow. Contrary to popular belief, the golden twin wasn't just a vain aft who cared nothing for anything besides his appearance and Sideswipe. Yes, he was vain, even he admitted that, but he genuinely cared for most of the mechs on base, even though he would shoot himself before admitting that to anyone, even Sideswipe. The others needed repairs more than he did, so thus he would wait.

The second reason he was avoiding the med bay was because of Ironhide. He had been next to the warrior when the mech had been shot. It had been he who had held 'Hide's chassis together – literally – while waiting for medical help to arrive. He had seen the look of desperate, wild panic on Ratchet's face as he stared down at the broken form of his mate. The expression had only lasted an astroklik before the professional mask slipped onto Ratchet's face, but it had been there long enough for Sunstreaker to see it. He had helped the medical officer keep his mate alive, giving up the energon in his veins when Ironhide bled out too quickly. Thankfully, the two warriors had similar antibodies in their energon, making Sunstreaker the perfect donor. He didn't know how long he had worked with the medic, praying that his minimal first aid skills would be enough to help Ratchet save his mate. He had never been so relieved to see First Aid, who was able to take over and help stabilize the damaged warrior.

That look of terror was the reason that Sunstreaker was holed up in his room at the moment. Sunny was a solider, and a good one at that. He and his brother were famous for being the only mechs who could literally pull the Seekers from the sky. He faced death every battle, and it had never bothered him before. But now he couldn't get the fear in Ratchet's optics out of his mind. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. They hadn't lost anyone since their arrival on earth. Before, when he had seen comrades die, they were just faces without names. He and Sides had never bothered to make friends before they were transferred to the Ark. Pit, Sunny still didn't like making friends. He didn't _want_ to care, for this exact reason. It hurts when you lose someone you care about. He didn't want to care about anyone, but he couldn't help himself. He did. It mattered to him now, if someone died. He didn't like this realization. It made him angry and depressed, and he felt helpless. So he stayed in his quarters, lest he take his bad mood out on someone else.

He stays curled up on his berth for a time, but eventually he grows restless. Careful not to put any weight on the damaged leg, he stands and moves to his dresser. Rummaging through the bottom drawer, he quickly finds what he was looking for. An easel, several shades of paint, and brushes of varying size. Perfect. Moving back to his berth, he sets up the canvas so that he can sit comfortably in front of it as he works. It has been a long, long time since he painted, and he finds that he has missed it. He hasn't had the time, nor the inclination, to paint, but now he wants to. Painting was always therapeutic for him, and he needs that calmness, the serenity that comes with creating a work of art.

As he worked, he lost himself in the colors of the canvas, and in the freedom that his art gave to him. He barely noticed the picture he was painting; the Ark as she was the cycle she was launched. In front of her was the crew. Despite being small compared to the Ark behind them, Sunstreaker painted them in exquisite detail. So lost in his own world, the warrior twin did not notice his door chime once, then twice, and then the sound of the door code being entered. A small form stepped into the room, wary, as it scanned for its target.

Cliffjumper stopped in surprise as he spotted his lover. Sunstreaker clearly was beyond seeing him, focused on a large canvas in front of him. Curiosity picked, the minibot moved quietly to the berth, coming to a halt next to Sunstreaker, who didn't even glance at him. Holding in a gasp, 'Jumper stared at the painting. It was so lifelike. He felt almost as though he could step through the paint and find himself back during that cycle, waiting for the Ark to launch.

They stood in silence, Cliffjumper watching as his lover wove together the events of that fateful cycle, waiting patiently for him to finish. At last Sunstreaker put down his brush, and seemed to come out of his trance. Deeming it safe to speak, Cliffjumper said,

"I didn't know you could paint." Sunstreaker merely gathered up his supplies and said tersely,

"I don't advertise it. It's been so long since I have that most of the mechs who knew that I can have forgotten. I don't think even Sideswipe remembers." Cliffjumper was not a fine arts lover. In fact, art tended to bore him. He could never stay still long enough to visit museums. But he couldn't understand why Sunstreaker would hide a talent like that. When he asked, all Sunstreaker would say was,

"I left that life behind when I joined the Autobots. There is no reason to try to relive the past when I can never go back." 'Jumper didn't miss the longing in his voice, though he tried to hide it. Deciding to leave the matter alone for now, he instead turned his attention to the reason he had come.

"Ratchet is going to have your head you know. And I think I might be the one to give it to him! Why the Pit did you not go to the med bay? You're leg has been torn to shreds!" Cliffjumper wouldn't admit it, especially not to Sunstreaker, but he had come to care about his lover. They had begun this tryst out of the mutual need for satisfaction, and both understood that there was no love involved. They didn't even like each other. But over the past few orns Cliffjumper found that he was able to see past the gruff, angry exterior that the vain warrior showed everyone else. He could see the mech, and found that he liked him. Sure, Sunny was a vain aft, that was no act, but he was a loyal, vain aft. He could see that the comments about him being more Decepticon than Autobot hurt, and had begun to feel guilty. He told the others to lay off, surprising even himself. He wouldn't say he loved the golden twin, but he did care a great deal about him, now. He doubted Sunny would return the sentiment though, so he kept his mouth shut. That didn't keep him from worrying though.

"It's fine. I'll go see Ratchet tomorrow." Sunny's leg betrayed him, though, and when he stood to put his supplies away, his leg gave out. Cliffjumper caught him, barely.

"Yeah," sarcasm laced his voice, "you look like you're fine."

"Ratchet has too much on his plate right now, alright!" Sunstreaker snapped. "My leg may be shredded, but so is Ironhide's chassis. Ratchet doesn't need to deal with this right now, so lay off, alright?" To stay Cliffjumper was stunned was an understatement. He had never seen the brash, brave mech like this before. Gently, he helped Sunstreaker up onto his berth, before moving down to the other end. He climbed up, and pulled Sunny's leg into his lap, examining the damage. He was no medic, but Bumblebee had taught him some of the first aid training that Ops mechs went through. it would be a quick fix, but it would last through the night. Then he would drag Sunstreaker's aft down to med bay, whether the mech liked it or not.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing you. Because you're too thick to get someone to look at it properly." Sunny snarled at him, but it was half hearted. Cliffjumper knew that there was more to this than not wanting to bother Ratchet. After all, Sunstreaker had no problems heckling them medic over simple, cosmetic injuries. He did it on an almost daily basis. He wouldn't push it though. If Sunny wanted to talk, he would. There was no point in pressing him for information. That would just make in surly and difficult to deal with.

Using makeshift bandages, Cliffjumper quickly had the injury wrapped tightly. It still bled sluggishly, but it would stop soon. Sunstreaker really should get it looked at right away, but the mech was too damn stubborn. Instead, 'Jumper massaged the undamaged parts of the leg, easing away the pain.

Sunstreaker relaxed as small fingers dug into his leg cabling, soothing the pained area. It felt really good, and he allowed the smaller bot to do as he pleased. He purred softly as the touches switched to his other leg, traveling up close to his hips. Cliffjumper avoided touching his panel, and instead brushed passed his pelvis to work on his sides. The touches changed from innocent to arousing. Onlining his optics (which he hadn't realized he'd offlined) he focused on his little lover's smirk.

The minibot moved to straddle his lover, hands still tracing over his sides. Finding a transformation seam, he hooked his fingers under the plating and twisted. Sunstreaker cried out, arching off the berth. He glared at the minibot, but could do nothing to change their positions, not unless he wanted to reopen the injuries on his leg. And if he did that, Cliffjumper would stop. He didn't want him to stop.

"My, how the tables have turned," 'Jumper all but purred. It was rare when he got to top Sunstreaker, and he fully intended to take advantage of it. Sunstreaker growled, but did nothing else. Leaning down, Cliffjumper pressed their mouths together, glossa dipping past Sunny's lips.

The gold mech put up a token resistance, but opened up under the teasing, wet strokes. Glossas engaged in a fierce battle for dominance, while Cliffjumper continued to stroke and tease Sunny's plating. He brought one hand up to cup a headlight, before scratching the metal. Sunstreaker screeched, arching into the touch. He gave into the minibot's touches, no longer fighting for dominance, giving Cliffjumper the rare opportunity to explore Sunny's delicious mouth unimpeded. It always amused the smaller mech that despite Sunstreaker's sharp tongued and often bitter words, his mouth tasted as sweet as energon candy.

Sunstreaker, for his part, was glad to let the other take control. He didn't often like being submissive, but tonight he was tired and hurting, and wanted to feel cared for. Even if Cliffjumper was only using him for 'facing, it was nice to pretend otherwise. Still, that didn't mean that he was going to make the red mech do all of the work. Reaching up, he pinched one of the horns on his lover's helm, before stroking it gently. Cliffjumper moaned, and pushed his head into the soft touch.

Pulling away from Sunny's mouth, 'Jumper pressed soft kisses across his jaw and down to his throat. He nipped softly at the neck cables, glossa delving between them to stroke at the sensitive seams. Sunstreaker's neck was a huge hot spot, and Cliffjumper could get him to overload simply by nipping and sucking the cables. He bit down hard, and then massaged the sore area with his glossa, chasing away the pain. Suckling softly, he smiled when he pulled away. Sunny would have difficulty covering up _that_ love bite.

Strong hands grabbed the back of his thighs, tracing up to the seam where leg met hip. Large fingers dipped into the gap, tweaking the seldom touched wires. Where he could get Sunny to overload by fondling his neck, his larger lover could do the same to him by playing with his thighs. Slithering backwards, he moved his hips out of his lover's reach, pressing kisses to that beautiful chassis as he did so. Smirking mischievously, he made his way down to the codpiece, and licked it playfully. Rarely did they engage in oral, preferring instead to skip straight to interfacing. But Cliffjumper was in a playful mood, and wanted to taste his lover.

At the first warm touches to his codpiece, Sunstreaker retracted the protective plating. his spike extended, ready and eager. Cliffjumper pulled away to examine him. Sunstreaker really was beautiful, from his pretty face, to his curvy chassis and hips, all the way to his long, elegant spike. Leaning over, the small mech took that tempting spike into his mouth, sucking at the head. Gasping at the hot touch, Sunstreaker thrust up, trying to get Cliffjumper to take him deeper. The minibot pinned his hips down however, taking great delight in forcing the warrior to stay still.

Slowly, so slowly, he took more of the spike into his mouth. He alternates between gentle licks and harsh sucks, and even grazes his denta across it once or twice. Sunstreaker writhes beneath him, biting his glossa to hold back his moans. Primus, Cliffjumper had an amazing mouth. And the little bastard knew it too. Sunny gave a great shout when 'Jumper relaxed his gag reflex and deep throated him, throat muscles clenching and squeezing his burning spike. Finally breaking the hold on his hips, the twin bucked up into the incredible tight heat around him. With a wicked grin, 'Jumper pulled back.

"Ah ah Sunny. None of that." Sunstreaker was too far gone to snarl at the nickname. Overload was so close, and he had been denied. Before he could voice his complaint, Cliffjumper was crawling over him, panel open and valve positioned over Sunstreaker's spike. Optics widening, the golden mech could only watch as his small lover sank down on him without prep.

Cliffjumper gasped in slight pain. He had 'faced Sunny enough that pain wasn't unbearable, but it still wasn't entirely comfortable. He stayed still for a moment, waiting for his valve to adjust to the large spike, before tentatively moving his hips.

Sunstreaker groaned as 'Jumper stilled, wanting desperately to thrust up into that tight, wet, welcoming heat. He had just enough presence of mind to stay still so as not to hurt his tiny partner. Finally Cliffjumper began to move, little motions that quickly picked up speed. Sunstreaker brought his hands up to those small hips, helping the minibot to move. Primus, he felt incredible. No matter how many times he fragged 'Jumper, he never got tired of it.

Cliffjumper moaned, bouncing up and down on the spike buried inside him. Sunstreaker was big, big enough to hit every sensor node in his valve, including that glorious little bundle way at the back. Ecstasy raced through him, and he clenched around Sunstreaker.

Sunny couldn't hold off. He had been close when Cliffjumper impaled himself, and now, deep inside his hot, wet little lover, overload was closer than ever. Thrusting hard one, two, three times, he came, flooding the hungry valve with transfluid.

Cliffjumper all but screamed as he lover came, triggering his own overload. He kept moving through it, riding it out, milking it for as long as possible. He collapsed forward onto Sunstreaker when he could no longer hold himself up.

Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around Cliffjumper without even thinking about it. It felt like the natural thing to do, and 'Jumper must have agreed, because he burrowed deeper into the younger twin's hold. Both were content to lay like that for a long while. Sunstreaker was almost in recharge when Cliffjumper asked,

"Feel better?" Sunny thought about it.

"Yeah." He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about his problem, but it seemed a little less important, while lying comfortably with his lover in his arms.

"Good." Cliffjumper knew that Sunny wasn't going to tell him what was wrong, now, if ever, but he thought, just the same, that he understood. After all, Sunstreaker had painted it. Every mech in the painting, and the ship itself, glowed with life. Everyone of them was filled with an inner joy, one that was rarely seen now. Sunny was missing the days when everyone could smile freely, and he was worrying about the future. The picture told him that more clearly that Sunstreaker could ever say with words.

Sunny noticed as Cliffjumper's optics strayed to the drying painting.

"You can have it," he offered suddenly, surprising both himself and Cliffjumper. "If you want, I mean." Cliffjumper could read between the lines and knew that Sunstreaker was giving him much more than a painting.

"Thank you," he said, voice uncharacteristically soft. They didn't speak after that, and a breem later the sound of Cliffjumper's intakes changed, indicating that the slightly older mech had gone into recharge. Sunstreaker simply watched him for a moment.

Looking at the face of his sleeping lover, Sunstreaker muses on his earlier thoughts. Despite all of his efforts, he cares. He cares too much, in fact. But in moments like these he can't help but think the pain that could come tomorrow or the next day is worth it. What's coming will come. And when it does, at least he'll still have these precious moments to look back on.


End file.
